


Pub Night

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Het, Light Bondage, One Shot, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie got more than he bargained for when he went to the pub with his mates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pub Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for hp_humpdrabbles on LJ and the prompt: the song _Bad Things_ by Jace Everett (also known as the theme song for the show _True Blood_ ).

Charlie just wanted to enjoy a game of darts and lift a few pints with his mates from the Dragon Reserve. He wasn't in the pub to pull—but then _she_ walked in and it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

She ordered a pint of the local brew and turned to survey the room. Charlie didn't even care that she caught him staring. He handed his darts off and joined her at the bar.

“You...” he started and then trailed off. He shook his head. “I had this amazing opening line that was going to charm you off that bar stool and into my bed, but you're so beautiful, I completely forgot how it goes.”

“That was rather amazing,” she said in accented English.

“Ah. You're Bulgarian?”

“I am,” she acknowledged. “And you're Charlie Weasley.”

His jaw dropped open, slightly.

“I remember your _Quidditch Quarterly_ cover story: _Best New Seeker_. Impressive, and yet you chose to chase _drakons_ instead.” She stuck her hand out. “Fidanka Ivanova.”

He shook her hand. She had a firm grip. “Ivanova from the Bulgarian National Team?”

She smiled. “I believe you said something about your bed?”

Twenty minutes later, they were in Charlie's cottage, leaving hastily-shed clothes in a trail from his front door to his bedroom. Fidanka pushed him down on his bed. _”Zatvaryam,”_ she muttered and silken ropes bound Charlie's arms and legs.

“Oi,” he protested.

“You can get out of them, _lyubim_. Relax. Enjoy.”

He laid his head back as she used hands and lips and Bulgarian phrases whispered like endearments to arouse him to an almost painful state.

“Fid,” he groaned.

“Patience,” she counselled and murmured spells which Charlie recognised by the feel as disease-prevention and contraceptive charms. She straddled him and took him into her body.

Then she began to move, slowly, sinuously, a rapt expression on her face. She looked amazing and felt even better. Charlie managed to hold back until she'd ridden him to her completion, then he was out of her ropes and flipping them over.

“Fid. Fid. Fid,” he chanted as he pistoned into her. He came with a shout and fell asleep curled protectively around her lithe body.

When he woke, she was gone, but she'd left him a note.

 _You were fun. Floo me._ She'd left her address.

Charlie grinned. And to think, he'd almost decided to just stay home tonight.


End file.
